


the way down the mountain

by amatchforyourmadness



Series: always together (eternally apart) [2]
Category: Ladyhawke (1985), The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ladyhawke Fusion, Cursed Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, Good Friend Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Inspired by Ladyhawke (1985), Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, M/M, Mentioned Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:35:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23044120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amatchforyourmadness/pseuds/amatchforyourmadness
Summary: it's on the way down that it strikes for the first time. and, Melitele, of course that had to be day when the curse was set. of course he has to break his bones while nursing a broken heart.( or the first time Jaskier turns into a falcon also happens to be the same afternoon his world fell apart around him; part of Geraskier! Ladyhawke AU )
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: always together (eternally apart) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653490
Comments: 8
Kudos: 171





	the way down the mountain

**Author's Note:**

> anyone fancy a dose of angst while college doesn't run over my productivity?
> 
> for an explanation of what the hell this au is all about, please check my reply on Tumblr to an ask of the same doubt!  
> https://ofwrittings.tumblr.com/post/611606785537835008/sorry-if-this-has-been-done-before-but-could-you

Of all the people to fall in the arms of, it's Yennefer that catches him when he falls to the ground, screaming in pain.

Geralt had made his feelings known, made his thoughts known, made his wish plenty well known and so Jaskier had given him the one thing he could: he had granted his wish and took himself away from his hands.

Of course, it was not a matter that had been gone over without tears, the bastard children of the ocean that every human had packed inside them to shed their sorrows with. The ocean. He should head to the coast, he should sing his songs, he should live a life worth of tales Geralt would dream to tell him.

He should have said ‘you are what pleases me _'._

_He didn't do it, though, because no part of it was what Geralt had asked for and, therefore, it wasn't something he would give him._

_It was only one wish._

_Let him be in peace now Jaskier has taken the mess he is out of his life._

“Well, fuck.“ A familiar voice says ahead of him. “What did he do to you?”

And of course that he turns to find the sorceress to blame for this whole mess herself, leaning miserably against a tree: Yennefer of bloody Vengerberg, glorious even in the what should be the scrambles of her presumptious, reckless, greedy, _nonsensical_ aftermath with the Djinn. He scoffs at his luck, looking around as if he could mock destiny as it mocks him, before he looks back at the violet eyes still inspecting him, a perfect brow arched at his direction. He merely laughs again before he raises his arm, every inch of him made of drama and theatrics.

“Easier to ask what didn't he do! In fact, I’m just on my way to make do with his one wish.”

“Oh, my…” Her eyes steel themselves and her expression turns impossibly sour at that, standing a little bit straighter as if a change of posture could hide the effects of Geralt’s intervention in her matters. “We all know how good he is with those. What did he ask for this time?”

“Blessed silence.” Jaskier announces in a thunderous voice, shaking his hands on the air for added affect, and ignoring how his arms’ bones have started to ache, pulling them closer to cradle against his chest as he spits out the next words. “For me to be taken off his hand. I have decided to comply, I have put down my shovel, so my deepest congratulations, he’s all yours.”

He bows at his last words, exaggeratedly so, and stands ready to walk past her, saltwater in his eyes, but he rises to see she is now in the middle of his path, blocking it, brows furrowed in disbelief.

“Whatever would I want to have him for?” She asks, her nose twitching away in disgust, like he had just said a pile of rotting meat or a dying stallion or a state that’s crumbling is hers to have and to be glad for it.

His skin is suddenly on fire from the inside out, and he can’t help but scratch his palms, the back of his hands. He must have brushed some plant he shouldn’t have touched if the itching is as hellish and sudden as it is.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to sing the wonders of carnal pleasure, you’ve enjoyed it plenty of times with him.” He hisses, and if he could pour venom, that’d be the time. yet the buring itch has travelled up his wrists, under his sleeves, and he can’t help but try to scratch it away, forcing his hands up his doublet’s sleeve and dragging his nails so furiously over the reachable patch of arm that his nails have skin he’s peeling from himself under them and it keeps burning and his back, his neck, his legs, everything itches and aches and burns. “Or does the mighty sorceress need me to drop the ‘L’ word that regards feelings?” He’s no longer even bothering to look at her, instead reaching under his jacket to scratch at his nape and his neck and his shoulders until he can see spots of blood against the calloused pads of his fingers and he has to keep his hands balled at his sides and even that does not help, because he’s carving his nails on his pants in hopes he can claw at the skin underneath instead. _Melitele, did he poison himself? Is he going to die?_ “You don’t have the Witcher excuse going for you, I’m afraid, Madam Witch, so don’t expect me to take you to be as emotionally constipatedd as _him_ , even if you can be as much of a life wrecker!”

“Love him? I didn’t love him.” She scoffs and he can only muse bitterly at the comedic tragedy he’s part of; loving a man that doesn’t love him but is instead in love with a woman that does not love him. It’s almost enough to distract him from the burning, but not quite. His hands are on his knees now, and he looks up at her if only to take in the whole mockery of a love triangle they form in it’s fullness. “A bit of Djinn magic, that was all there was to it. I hardly wanted to keep him before, much less now. Speaking of which…” She approaches him, brows furrowed, taking in intently the rabid-dog like scratching and the way he draws in his breath with more difficulty by the minute until she’s standing barely a hair away from him, and holds his face to better inspect it right when he was about to double over in pain. “Geralt’s incredibly clever wish explains the Djinn magic surrounding you, but what else has he done? Or what have _you_ done?”

Jaskier opens his mouth to protest something along the lines of not taking kindly to that acusing tone she has to her words, bit all that comes from him is a raspy breathless voice he just can’t stand to pronounce more than a word with, so he shuts his mouth in shock. He blinks; once, twice, thrice. There are black spots to his vision and it doesn’t make sense. Why is Yennefer getting blurry? Oh, he feels lightheaded. There are stabs of sharp pain all over his body but nothing makes sense. He hitches a breath when he feels one such pain to his lungs.

“What?” He slurs slightly, and his voice is slightly better if not a little hitchy. He feels more and more disconnected to his body as a burning sensation starts to creep up his spine. “Why?”

His skin is on fire. He can barely keep himself from scratching his whole body but he’s barely holding himself as it is, and it’s mostly due to her hand on his chin than anything else.

“I feel on you a curse of Aretuza.” She says, mysterious and full of finality to her words as if she’s telling him he’s been sentenced to death.

His lute falls from his grip and he cannot apologize mentally enough for that as he doubles over himself in pain and agony that comes from inside him. Now, he’s known for being dramatic and he knows he can feel intensely, with all his heart and probably still some more from all other parts. He tries to hold it back as it comes from the depths of his being, but it’s no help: he screams.

Yennefer’s eyes shine with realization and recognition. He doesn’t need words to understand what she has figured out: he has been cursed. She had said he had reeked of magic, and given the growing distress to her features and her body language, she is not unfamiliar to this particular stench. Probably knows the mage. Probably knows whatever Jaskier is about to go though. It doesn’t make him feel any better.

_‘What's wrong with me?' Four words. That's all he means to ask her. 'What's wrong with me?', simple, easy to do._

Yet he can't.

Because the pain is no longer dull or the occasional pointed sharp stab, it's expanding and taking over his throat and lungs and stomachs and he fights all of himself to keep standing, to keep looking at her.

This feels worse than the djinn and that cannot be a good sign. He clings to Yennefer's arms and throws back his head in a scream as his legs break and he can no longer support his own weight. Still, the pain has not stopped. It feels like someone is pulling the bones of his toes to stretch some of them impossibly long and thin while shoving his the rest back into his legs. 

He looks up to the witch's face — and, _Melitele_ , could it be possible that in the heights of his misery she could not look just a little bit disheveled in her horrified concern?! At least she looks tired, at the _very least_ that — as she holds him, cradling him on her lap, glancing over him in a panic and laying her hands over his legs as she whispers words and seeps violet magic onto him to no avail. She's weak from the mountain, and even though he knows shit all about magic outside his songs and what Geralt has grunted his way, but this one here is strong. Too strong for a weakened Yennefer. Too strong for—

_— Geralt._

His arms breaks next and he sobs out screams of pain as his shoulder shift painfully backwards until his arm start where his backblades used to be, and his fingers stretch as his arms are pulled into his body. His skin itches all over, there's something being pushed out of it, thousands of somethings. He wants to roll through the ground, scratch himself to the bone, jump in a bath of boiling water, but all he does is scream as his ribcage expands and expands and his broken legs are pulled into him and his jaw pushes up while his nose sinks into his face, teeth merging together and eyes growing and this is worse this is worse than the djinn it's worse than anything and Yennefer holds his hand and she looks exhausted, the mountain wasn't kind to her yet she holds him and tries to soothe him.

_He should have told Geralt. He should have told him that he loved him. He should have thought to stay._

But the pain doesn't fade. Nothing fades.

_But then it would be Geralt, and not his lover (ex-lover? witch fling? lady love? does he even have it in him to care for that right now?) holding him through this last torture to an early grave._

Is he dying?

The pain doesn't fade.

_Oh, he hopes he's far enough that his Witcher can't hear his wailing._

He keeps thinking about Geralt and his heart breaks and there are feathers growing from under his skin, his bones are broken and his body is rearranging itself in the most painful of manners and the pain doesn't fade.

So Jaskier just keeps screaming and screaming and screaming, until a falcon's call cuts the air where his voice had been.

_He screams every sunrise and sunset that follows._

**Author's Note:**

> so that's it my friends! I should be gone for two weeks or so after I update my TUA fica and I hope everyone interested likes the work, maybe follow me on Tumblr to check for updates.
> 
> My next work, apart from updates of the main fic, should be about Geralt finding about the curse and the extra Djinn wish he made and I should be posting it around the 19th on Patreon on advance, if anyone is interested on checking it out.
> 
> Feel free to leave kuddos and comment or to pester me about this AU on my Tumblr, OfWrittings, where I'll post small prompts and updates about this story!
> 
> See you around!


End file.
